School Days For The Rebellious
by bitterasblood
Summary: Sherlock. John. The New Girl. Redwing School. Midnight feasts, Jolly hockey sticks and rebellious natures make this a whole new experience. Thank you to 'FrankieFish' for the inspiration. Sherlock/O.C John/O.C Sherlock/John - Rated M - SLASH  possible
1. Rebellious

School Days for the Rebellious...

1

Amelia Finch took slow, tentative steps towards the open doors of the sixth-form common room. Redwing School offered a "_welcoming and invigorating sixth-form for pupils from all backgrounds..." _Amelia laughed to herself, momentarily forgetting where her feet were taking her. She'd moved schools suddenly. Her parents had decided to pluck from the cosy womb of _Whitakers Academy for Ladies_ away from her friends and her teachers. Amelia didn't like change. She hissed in sudden pain as her body connected full force with the door frame. The chatter that had been floating from the common room stopped dead. An eerie silence descended and they all look at her. Amelia turned bright red. Rapidly stepped away from the door frame, rubbed her forehead, smoothed her uniform and continued. She knew what they were all looking at. The faces of about fifty boys and girls stared directly at the long, pink scar across her left eye. A few began to whisper and snicker behind their hands. Amelia ignored it. Her eyes were drawn to the one face not bothering with her embarrassing entrance. Thin hands, smart uniform, open school bag, a mound of books and a mass of dark curly hair. She weaved her way through the maze of chairs, cursing herself again and again; "Well done Amelia ...could you have made that any worse? No." She sat down in the chair opposite the young man. Her eyes scanned his bowed head, his open school bag...her sharp eyes picked up on the spine of a blue book..._Sherlock Holmes_...she ran the word around her mouth. She took a deep breath in...

"Hi..." her voice was croaky and she quickly cleared her throat. The boy looked up, his face impatient.

"Hello Amelia Finch..." she frowned in confusion – how could he possibly know her name?

"Excuse me...but how do you know my name _Sherlock Holmes_?" He looked up properly. His steely blue eyes, his chiselled face, his almost angelic cheekbones and the light scent of his cologne. Amelia shivered. By the look in his eyes he was analysing her. Taking in every motion, every breath. Amelia suddenly became embarrassed, he didn't look at her scar once and this made her uneasy.

"I looked at the school system – you're new so your name flashed up. Child's play. And my name is on the school book hanging out of my bag. Well done – you're not as stupid as you look." Amelia coloured with anger. Her fingers curled to fists.

"Thanks." There was loud laughing from the doorway and another group of lads dressed in sports kit, coated in mud came in. Amelia turned and looked with the rest. Sherlock sat up, raising an arm. "John!" A young man with mousy blonde hair, large blue eyes and a suggestively muscular frame walked over to the pair. He looked at Amelia as he passed her to take the seat next to Sherlock. Amelia froze. Her heart started beating and she felt pink flood to her cheeks. He may have been covered in mud. But he was very, very good looking. Sherlock looked at her...he realised what was going through her head and pulled a disgusted face; "_God almighty...not another one..." _Amelia smiled at John and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Amelia...I really think that mud suits you...matches your complexion..." John laughed and his face lit up...

"Thank you Amelia – it's nice to know someone thinks I look okay." He shot a withering look at Sherlock – the other boy ignored it. "I'm on the rugby team so mud comes with the game..." Amelia smiled;

"So does broken collar bones and muscle strain...but each to our own – I'm more of a dancer myself." John raised a blonde eyebrow – "You'll fit right in then – we're well known for our dancers here...drama, music, sport and science..." He murmured the schools Latin moto; "_Integram educationem_"

"A complete education...I studied Latin at my old school."

"Where'd you come from?" John enquired.

"Whitakers Academy for Ladies...full of posh bitches..." John tried not to laugh,

"You got that right" He sent a cheeky wink her way and Amelia fought down the blush...again. She was really attracted to him...he was – in short. Gorgeous. Suddenly a loud school bell rang in the distance. Sherlock stood up abruptly. Amelia jumped in surprise – she'd completely forgotten he was there. Sherlock had been listening to this mindless conversation for the last ten minutes and frankly he was bored. He walked away, holding his head high and looking rather stuck up in Amelia's opinion. Amelia walked beside John, breathing in his smell...the outdoors, Lynx and a hint of sweat...She pulled a screwed up piece of paper out of her pocket;

"I've got Biology first with...Mr Williams?" John nodded –

"Same actually – there's a space next to me if you like – as smarty pants likes to work alone..." He gestured at the marching Sherlock.

"Is it me – or does he insult people on a regular basis? He called me stupid..." John sighed and shrugged his shoulders...

"That's just him. He's ridiculously clever and everyone is stupid and blind – you get used to it I promise..." They arrived at the lab and John graciously held the door open for him. He showed her the desk and she dropped her things down. John whistled –

"Nice bag...are you minted or what?" Amelia blushed,

"My father runs his own company...it's complicated..." John laughed,

"Like most things around here...now – a quick word of warning – that guy over there..." He pointed to a thuggish looking lad; tall, dark, short hair. Brutish with big fists...and probably the brain the size of a pea. "That's Peter Mitchell. He's a real bully and I know you can probably handle yourself – by the way – I love that in a girl. I'd be careful..." Amelia acted like she'd missed his comment in the middle...but she couldn't help but smile. The lesson ran smoothly – she wasn't behind – in fact she was ahead – they were studying cell formation. Amelia took great delight in helping John.

"What are you studying for A-levels" John asked, tapping his pen on the book. It was open on a page showing a diagram of a fully functioning human cell. They'd been asked to draw it and Johns page looked like it had been attacked by a toddler...Amelia laughed, pulled his book over and began correcting it...

"Me? I'm studying Biology, Chemistry, Dance and Psychology... you?"

"Uh...Biology, Chemistry, Psychology and Sports...looks like you've got to put up with me then..." Amelia smiled...

"I think I can cope with that..." The rest of the day past smoothly, meal times were a good laugh and lessons passed well. Amelia had free time in the afternoon so she gathered her books and went to watch John play sport...at the end of the rugby match...John walked over to Amelia and gave her his phone number with the famed words "Text me..." Amelia walked up to her dorm. She was with three other girls and they ignored her – just the way she liked it. She picked up her iPhone and tapped in John's number – she took a deep breath and sent the first text...

"_Hey John! Wuu2? Xx"_ Amelia laid her phone on her pillow, unpacking her stuff – a few moments later her phone vibrated. One new message from John.

"_Hey cutie! Just lazing around on my bed – you? Xx" _Amelia giggled like a pre-teen seeing Justin Bieber in a magazine and collapsed onto her bed.

"_Oh I'm anything but cute! Trust me! I'm just chillin – getting used to my new bed – they're not very comfy... -.- Xx"_

_ "Haha! You'll get used to it eventually. Promise. Saw you watching me play rugby earlier – enjoy it? Xx"_

_ "Apart from freezing my ass off – yeah – it was good :D You're really talented y'know...Xx"_

_ "lol...my dad makes me play...i have no choice tbh..but it keeps me in shape so who's complaining..." _

_ "xD Not me for one – I wish I was that fit..Xx"_

_ " ;) Xx" _

_ "Oh shush you – anyway – off to sleep I go and I will see you at breakfast – btw – what's your last name? You're down in my phone as John Hunky...Xx"_

_ "Lol – Amelia you make me laugh. Yes – breakfast it's a date...*blush* I'm flattered and my name is John Watson – and you? Cuz you're now in my phone as 'Gorgeous' Xx"_

_ "Now I'M the one blushing – Amelia Finch for your information. Goodnight John Xxx"_

_ "Goodnight Miss Finch – sleep well on your uncomfy bed ;)...Xxxx"_

Amelia smiled and switched her phone off...placing on her bedside table...she curled up under the covers. School days for the rebellious. Rebellious texting to him in lessons. Rebellious meet ups at midnight and rebellious dreams and feelings for a boy she hardly knew. This was going to be fun. But then lay the mystery of Sherlock Holmes. Something changed in his face when he looked at her...something that said...oh she didn't know...Goodnight Miss Amelia Finch.

x.x End x.x


	2. Focus

**So...my second chapter :) I hope this goes down well...I've actually got some ideas, and I know where I'm going with this now :D please review - it would mean alot to me :) **

**Miss. Blaize. C x.x**

* * *

><p>Focus on What's Important.<p>

2

Amelia woke up the next morning tired, grumpy and with rather bad back ache. She sighed, threw her bed covers off and stared lifelessly at her uniform. Burgundy blazer, knee length black skirt, white shirt, burgundy and white striped tie, black knee high socks and black ballet pumps. Within moments she was dressed...and still not feeling awake. Suddenly her phone vibrated on her bedside table.

"_Good morning Amelia! This is your personal wakeup call via the boy's dormitory telling you that it is time for breakfast! As we're sixth-form we get breakfast early – remember – we made it a date ;) Xxx"_ Amelia laughed, stuffing her phone in her pocket. She made her way from the girls' dorm to the main hall. And indeed there were a group of blazers and a sandy coloured head looked up as the doors opened and it was beaming. Good morning...gorgeous! Amelia tried not to let her knees go weak. Redwing didn't approve of 'inappropriate behaviour' between male and female pupils. Redwing didn't approve of Amelia's black bra under her white shirt. Redwing didn't approve of her and John 'studying' together. Redwing didn't approve of Amelia's A-level choices. Redwing didn't approve of anything really and Amelia decided that what Redwing didn't approve of they could stick up their governing boards arses. She grabbed a bowl of cereal, and made her way through the mass of people to John. She reached the table and found a girl in the seat she thought was empty. Slender, black hair cut straight. A thick, long fringe – the kind you found in glamour magazines. Amelia froze feeling awkward; she quickly found another seat on the table next door. She looked at John through her fringe, her cheeks colouring and jealousy rising in her throat like bile. She nearly choked on her cereal when she saw John reach out and take the girls hand. Amelia realised where she'd seen her before - her dorm. The bed opposite her. This girls name was Beatrice. She was head girl. And little miss popular. Suddenly she felt a nudge on her leg. She looked up, not realising who she was sat with. She locked eyes with a pair of steely blue orbs and dark curly hair. Sherlock Holmes. The boy who'd insulted her to her face. She frowned.

"Someone should of told you he was taken. He's been with Bee for three months and seven days." Amelia snorted, shaking her head.

"Like it bothers me who he dates. I've known him for three days." Sherlock laughed, deep and warm.

"You like him, don't deny it. I can tell. The dilation of your pupils, the clench of your hands, the flush in your cheeks..." Amelia held her hand up.

"Okay Einstien...I get the picture. There's just something about him..."

"That's what all the girls say..." Sherlock glanced at his watch. "Got to go...see you later..." He immediately dropped his gaze...his cheeks flushing and Amelia cocked her head in confusion.

"Bye...Sherlock!" Amelia quietly finished her breakfast...disposed of her tray and slowly made her way to her next lesson. She was silently fuming...

_Why couldn't he tell me he's got a fucking girlfriend! I really thought I might have a one-in-a-million chance. But no...oh Amelia..._

Sherlock Holmes ran into his room, slammed the door shut and sunk against it. He stuffed his hands into his hair and tried to get her out of his head. He'd known her what...two days! He'd brushed every girl aside. Every pretty girl, every average girl he had no attraction to. But her? He had to fight to hide his feelings. The way her hair fell when she pulled it out of that pony tail. That glitter in her eyes, the scar across her face and her black bra under her thin white shirt. The bell rang for the next lesson and Sherlock stood up, grabbing his bag. He looked down and swore as he realised his arousal. There was something about her that he had to have. He had to touch her, to feel her hair, to hear her moan his name...Sherlock cleared his throat and directed his thoughts to the latest murder novel he was engrossed in. The graphic murder calmed his nerves. But he still positioned his school bag infront of his legs and walked quickly to Biology, hiding the flush in his cheeks.

o.0.o.0.o.

_John walked hand in hand with Bee to their next lesson. John suddenly realised who was walking infront of them. Her auburn hair, the sway of her hips and the line of dark lace at her back. John swallowed and looked at Bee, smiling at whatever crap she was going on about it. The hold on her hand was loose, his palm sweaty. He watched Amelia walk, following each sway of the material and each footstep. Suddenly he was jolted forward and a sharp poke in his shoulder brought him back to Earth._

_"What are you staring at John? Huh?" His girlfriends glaring eyes provoked a voice out of him. He looked to his brain for help..."you were looking at the floor!" _

_"I was looking at the floor?" His voice was tentative, but the flare in Bee's eyes said she was going to scream at him. And she did._

_"No you bloody well weren't! For God's sake John! I'm supposed to be your..." John stopped listening after a while... her voice just faded. Suddenly, his hand was dropped and the click of Bee's heels were loud in his ears. John sighed and murmured under his breath; "Break up number six..." Suddenly he walked straight into Amelia, his hands hanging by his side, brushing against her butt. She screamed and whipped round, coming ridiculously close to his face. Amelia blushed and tried to turn away. But John's hands on her shoulders stopped all movement. They were moments away from the science block...he leaned in, his lips meeting hers...sparks flew..._

o.0.o.0.o.

"Amelia! AMELIA!" Amelia jolted awake. She'd fallen asleep at her desk again. Sherlock sat beside her, tutting and shaking his head. She jabbed his leg under the table with her compass and tried not to look at the blonde and black heads infront of her.

Focus Amelia. Focus on what? Focus on what's important. Not John and deffinately not Beatrice.


	3. The Science Of Seduction

The Science Of Seduction

Amelia wrapped her slip around her, tied it and sat down on her bed. She pulled out her pointé shoes, checked the fastenings and grabbed her leotard. She stuffed the lot in a loose canvas bag and made her way to the dance studio.

A few moments later Amelia was stretched out on the cold floor, flexing her legs and repeatedly banging the end of her ballet shoes into the floor. They hadn't been used in a while and the ends needed flattening. After five solid minutes the ends were sufficiently flattened. Amelia tightened her slip and began to fasten her shoes. She walked over to the CD player and switched on the first dance in 'Swan Lake' and began to move. She was surrounded by full length mirrors and took delight in correcting her posture, her standing, her balance. The familiar dull ache began in the base of her toes but she put it out of her mind. As the song reached its climax she relaxed into her stride. She was elegant, beautiful. She was – the sound of a door creaking and measured footsteps made her jump. She fell, landing on her side; pain rushing up her legs and her head connected with the floor. Light exploded in her vision and slowly she twisted, staring daggers at the person who dared interrupt her. Her eyes met his and time slowed. Sherlock Holmes stood in the open doorway, looking at her crumpled form. His eyes filled with concern and he stepped forward. He bent down and offered a hand. Amelia hissed with pain and accepted the offer. Her ankles were sore and her head throbbed but she'd be okay. Amelia changed to _en pointe_ and turned away from him. She stretched her body down, extending her legs and testing for damage. She didn't care that he got a full view of her arse/underwear/long legs. Sherlock took a sharp breath in as her back bent. She stood up again, turned and took steps towards him.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm dancing. I could've broken something you idiot!" She came infinitesimally close to his face, tasting his breath and gauging his response. Her eyes were burning and his were wary. He was stiff. His hands were balled by his side, his head turned up and away slightly. "Good grief Sherlock Holmes...you reek of 'virgin'..." He flushed bright pink and stepped away quickly, his eyes suddenly angry at the crude insult. Amelia grabbed his tie and pulled him back; "But whoever said that was a bad thing..." He was trembling and a tiny bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. She whispered to him telling him to shut his eyes. He did so and Amelia turned her head and placed a tender kiss at the join of naked skin from his shoulder to his neck. He gasped; the sound was dry and rasping. She continued kissing up, following the line of straining tendons. Occasionally her tongue would wet the delicate skin. His gasps became groans of pleasure. Finally she reached his earlobe. Her teeth worried the skin, biting and sucking. Sherlock's knuckles were white and his knees were weak. She pulled away and looked straight at him. His pupils were wide, his cheeks flushed and she could clearly feel his arousal through the thin material of his trousers. His breathing was fast and he couldn't move.

"Wha-what are you doing...?" Amelia laughed. Pulling her long hair loose of its fastening. She shook her head and smiled at him, biting her lip. "Teaching you the science of seduction..." The studio was dark apart from the lighting above the mirrors. Amelia walked backwards, pulling him along by his tie. His mouth moved in protest but she ignored it. Her back touched the cool of the glass and she sighed in pleasure. Her tongue flicked across her lips making the boy infront of her whimper. Amelia pushed his blazer off his shoulders. Pulled his tie off and began unbuttoning his shirt. A cool, slender hand met hers and soft lips pressed themselves against her own. She grabbed his shirt pulling him flush against her body. She moaned into the kiss. Forcing his mouth open, brushing her tongue against his. His hips pushed into her and sparks flew down her spine. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and finally reached their prize. His chest was perfect and unmarked. Smooth and burning with heat. She could feel his heart racing in time with hers. Heat of her own increased between her legs. She ached with need. She pulled away from the kiss, pulling her dance slip down over her shoulders, exposing her bare chest to him, her hands flat against the mirror. Sherlock stopped, he stared but was unsure of what to do. He'd never seen...before apart from in stupid magazines the immature lads passed around the dormitory. They were smooth, round and pert. Rising and falling as Amelia breathed. She looked straight at him, her voice dark with desire..."Touch..." her commands were simple yet pleading. Sherlock raised a hand, shaking as he did. His fingers were long and cool and as they met her tender skin Amelia took a sharp intake of breath. Her nipple swelled underneath his palm and she sunk down the mirror slightly, quite moans escaping her wanting lips. His other hand copied and her moans doubled tenfold. His hand explored the shape, felt the weight and his thumbs flicked over her hard tips. One hand began to wonder lower across her stomach. Loosening the fastening of her slip, letting it fall to the floor. She was left in her ballet shoes and her underwear. He traced the line of her hips, slipping over the top of her underwear. Amelia's back arched and she opened her mouth and moaned his name. He pulled her body closer to his, away from the mirror and fixed his lips to hers. Suddenly he was the one in control. He could feel the heat between her legs, the moisture of her arousal had soaked through the material. He began to rub very gently, slowly. Teasing her. Her body stiffened, the pleasure making her tremble. Her fingers dug into his bare back, scratching down. As she couldn't be vocal she expressed her pleasure through other means...he broke apart from her and groaned as the sparks of pain flared at his skin. She smiled, biting her lip as he gradually got faster. She pressed her lips to his ear, moaning ever so quietly and whispering, her voice husky; "I...want...more..." and more he gave her. He brought his hand up, running his finger around the edge of her underwear, slowly pulling them down, leaving her naked. His fingers returned, gently probing her wet entrance; "Yes...Sherlock...please..." The cool of his skin providing a blissful contrast to hers. Slowly, inch by tender inch he slid one finger inside her. Amelia's moans got louder as he added a second finger. Instinct made him curl his fingers upwards, easily finding that sensitive bud of nerves. Her hips bucked against his hand as he gently stroked. Blood pounded in her ears and her mind was blank. Her lips eagerly found his and their tongues entwined. Her internal muscles tightened around his fingers as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. He moved faster, entwining his free hand in her hair. Her legs began to shake and she weakened against him. She wrenched away from his lips and cried out his name as pleasure exploded from her heat outwards. Her body filled with stars and the familiar spasms of her climax rocked her body. Sherlock's breathing was erratic...he was in a state of shock. His own arousal throbbed in time with his heart as he studied the girl infront of him. Her hands curled and un-curled as her breathing reduced to whimpers and the rush of chemicals to her body subsided.

She brushed the hair out of her face and licked her lips. She kissed Sherlock again and whispered in his ear; "Lesson 1...Passed..." he blushed and crossed his arms over his body, realising his nakedness. Amelia laughed, and slowly dropped to her knees. Sherlock started; "A-Amelia...what are you doing...this time..." he swallowed, but did not protest as she un-buckled his belt. She unbuttoned his trousers, dropping the zip and pushing the offending item to the ground. Sherlock's pale features were graced with a blush the colour of Amelia's auburn hair as she gazed in delight at his erection. Her fingers teased him through the cloth of his boxers. He gasped and his body stiffened. "This really isn't...appropriate..." Amelia looked at him; "Shhh..." her fingers crept to the top of his underwear, pulling them down to join his trousers on the floor. She took his length in her hand and gripped ever so gently. Sherlock groaned and fought down the rush of pleasure. He went to open his mouth to protest but was quickly silenced as he felt heat and moisture caress the tip of his desire. He watched in ecstasy as she slowly took him into her mouth. He linked his fingers into her hair brushing it over her shoulders...just so he could watch her breasts bounce as her body and head did. The muscles in his legs tensed and deep, guttural moans made their way up from his chest. He rocked slightly, urging her to take more. She slid off him and looked up..."Sorry Mr Holmes...is that you asking for more?" He nodded..."Yes...please...more..." Amelia smiled and slid him all the way into her mouth. Her tongue painted patterns on the underside and one of her hands dipped lower and toyed with him...making him moan again...she gradually picked up pace, bringing her hand into the mix. Her head bobbed up and down, meeting with her hand in the middle. His breathing got faster and his grip in her hair got tighter. Suddenly, his voice quiet but meaningful; "Amelia...I'm...I'm..." and with those words he released into her mouth. She felt the warmth at the back of her throat. She felt the spasms of his climax and most of all she heard him moaning her name. Amelia pulled her head away, swallowing, savouring the sweetness and sank back to the floor. Sherlock joined her, breathing heavily. As Amelia sat she felt the burning in her chest as she studied his body. She felt the moisture again and blushed. He was muscular, but not to the extremes. His skin was the colour of milk and his curled fringe was damp with sweat. She moved closer to him. Placing her hands on her shoulders, she straddled him. A bell sounded in the distance, the sound was fuzzy as blood still pounded in her ears...this meant the whole school was at dinner. No one would disturb them. She kissed him and he looked surprised. He'd not noticed her moving. She was hovering above his still hard member, her hips swaying left to right. He knew in his mind he could go again. She'd started the chain. Fulfilled the fantasy he'd had about her since he'd first seen her. Sherlock and Amelia. His hands traced her face, down to her chest. Toying with her breasts again, dipping his head and suckling her nipples, gently biting and licking. She whimpered and moaned. Writhing underneath him, wanting more. His hands moved to her waist, her hips and to her thighs. He slowly lowered her down. She felt the pressure at her entrance...his voice was desperate, "Amelia...Amelia..." Suddenly a change of tone; "Amelia?" She opened her eyes and her vision cleared to see him leant over her, his face filled with concern. "Amelia. Are you alright?" She nodded, her face confused;

"What just happened? I swear we...we..."

Sherlock snorted; "We..what? I interrupted your dancing and you fell over, you banged your head and knocked yourself out. You've been out for about the last five minutes. Five minutes and 42 seconds to be precise. You were writhing about and kept moaning my name."

Amelia blushed. "I'm sorry...I had the strangest dream..." Sherlock shook his head. He helped her up, made sure she was okay and left. As the door swung shut behind him Amelia groaned in frustration. She picked up her things and left. As she walked down the corridor, the bell for dinner rang and the familiar screams and laughter echoed from the grounds. She ran to her room, ignoring the people around her. She had no friends in this place – there were only two people who cared. _Well...make that one_ she thought bitterly as the door to her room came into view. She pushed the wood open and collapsed on her bed, crying and sobbing into her pillow. Her tears were of frustration more than true upset. After a few moments she turned over, lying on her back.

"Why, why, **why**! You're stupid Amelia, last time I checked the only boy you could think about was John! Get a grip on yourself! He has no interest in you at all, and neither does Sherlock..." Her on-going rant was interrupted by the vibrating of her phone. She looked at it. "1 New Message From John Watson 3" She opened it up and couldn't help laughing at the simplicity of its contents;

"_John Watson is Single. Break up number 8. Give it a week and I'll be at her knees like a sick puppy. There's something so morally wrong about this. Tomorrow is our weekly town trip and I'd like to give you a tour of Aintree Village. I could do with a decent cup of coffee and some decent company. Yours sincerely, John Hunky Xxx_

Amelia replaced her phone and scrabbled inside her bedside table, she pulled out her diary, retrieved her favorite pen and curled up under her covers and began to scrawl;

_Dear Diary,_

_After having a highly inappropriate dream about reaching 1__st__,2__nd__ and 3__rd__ base (oh and very nearly 4__th__) with one Mr Sherlock Holmes after he knocked me out by interrupting my ballet...I have now proceeded to bag a date with his incredibly dishy best friend. He's promised me coffee and a tour round the village. Maybe the tour will turn into something more...I'd at-least expect a goodbye kiss. Anyway – the bitches 1-3 have returned. Cue floods of tears at the 8__th__ break up of J.B, Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, "He was never worth it anyway babes!" and best of all – "he'll be back before you know it" Oh if only they knew! *EVIL LAUGH* _

_Mrs Amelia Watson...Mrs Amelia Holmes..._

_Goodnight xx_

**Fine.**

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><p><strong>Authors Note: Previously reviewing the chapters - i realise there are some issues with time. Amelia has currently been at her new school a week - so please excuse the typos - I am not, as some of you may believe, Doctor Who. I'd really like some reviews, so hopefully - this rather saucy chapter will help ;) Enjoy! <strong>


	4. The Date

The Date

Amelia groaned as her alarm clocked yelled in her ear. She rolled onto her back and then realised what day it was. THE DATE! She bolted upright and swung herself out of bed. Her room was empty, everyone else was at breakfast. She had exactly an hour and a half before the bus left. Right. Shower. Amelia grabbed her towels and her shampoo/shower gel. A few moments later, she was soaked in the hot water. She washed away the memories that burned in her mind of Sherlock, and replaced them with John. The water was soothing, and the thought of John's lips on hers and his hands on her bare skin. His muscular chest, his legs wrapped around hers. Amelia found her hands working their way down her body. She let out a quiet moan and instantly bit her tongue, her heart pounding as the door to the communal bathroom opened. She head Beatrice and Alexi come in. Their harsh voices grating against her ears. She washed the last of the soap off her body, wrapped her towel around her and quickly stepped out of the shower. Beatrice and Alexi looked up in surprise. Amelia flushed, she hated people seeing her like this. It raised so many questions.

"Oh its you." Beatrice's tone was repulsive. Like Amelia was a vagrant of the streets. And then they noticed. Amelia's upper arms were covered in thick, white scars. So were her thighs and her stomach. Being the child of wealthy parents, having everything she wanted. Put her parents never paid attention to her. Her mother was addicted to having affairs. And her father was either in New York or Thailand. Never at home. So they compensated. With money. And that's when she discovered the blades. The sheer rush of releasing all the hatred she had inside her. It was a sick addiction that she would never admit to. But it helped. The two girls stared, their lips bubbling with questions. She turned and practically ran. Fighting back the tears. She scrabbled through her clothes drawers, scrubbing her hair in her towel as the searched. She laid the clothes out on her bed. Her dark pink skinny jeans, black top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a bright blue vest underneath as the top fell off one shoulder and finally her yellow Doc Martens. She dried her hair and pulled on her favourite underwear set. Once she was dressed and her hair in its usual messed up bun. She set to work on her many piercings. The month before she moved schools she'd gone off the rails. Went crazy. Drunk, smoked weed, hung out with the 'wrong people' and got some new piercings. She replaced her tiny silver nose stud with her favourite blue one. Switched her clear lip studs with thin silver rings, changed her ear rings for their colourful counterparts and finally found her bright green ear plug. Then it was the eyeliner, the mascara, a bit of lip tint and she was done. It surprised her that none of her class mates had noticed her piercings. Most of the teachers had they said it was fine as long as she had clear ones for when she was in school. She checked the time. Exactly ten minutes. Her phone vibrated, and she had one last check in the mirror as she left her dorm. The message from John read;

"_See you downstairs gorgeous ;) Xxx" _

Amelia smiled and replied almost instantly;

"_I hope you don't have any issues with bright colours or body piercings – cuz if you do – you're in for a shock :P"_ And she headed downstairs.

He was in the middle of replying when she placed her hands over his eyes. John turned around and stared at the beautiful girl infront of him.

"Amelia? Wow...not the girl I know...you are Amelia right? I'm not imagining things..." People were whispering and staring at her. Amelia hated blending in. And they could talk as much as they liked. She gingerly toyed with her right lip ring, poking it with her tongue and giving John a flash of the stud that lay buried in the middle of it. He swallowed. And then smiled. Amelia smiled back, relieved that he hadn't run in the opposite direction. They climbed on the bus and settled at the back.

"So when did you get all these piercings then?" Amelia giggled,

"A few months ago, my parents went ape. It was so funny. They tried to make me remove all of them. Fat chance." John laughed again, his face lighting up.

"You Amelia Finch, are one rather incredible girl." The journey was short and sweet. And by the end of it, John's hand was entwined with hers and her head was on his shoulder. They stepped off the bus and stood at the entrance to the town.

"Welcome to Aintree Village...it's not much, but we like it." Amelia gasped in surprise. It was full of colour. The quaint houses overflowed with window boxes and hanging baskets that exploded with colour. High washing lines were filled with beautiful shades of green and blue. The cobbled stones glinted in the sunlight as John took her hand and showed her around. They passed shops filled with flowers, cakes, clothes and jewellery. And finally they reached the most adorable tea room. John opened the door and graciously said "Drinks are on me" the pair sat opposite each other, sharing a cream cake and drinking coffee. The fingers on one hand were still entwined.

"You know, I'm glad Beatrice and I aren't together anymore...because to tell the truth...I fell for you the moment I saw you." Amelia blushed; "And I feel the same..."

"When you've finished your tea...I want to show you the park and the fountain..." Amelia was in a trance. She couldn't believe this was happening. Two weeks down the line and she was dating the hottest guy in school. Well...maybe they were dating? He hadn't asked the question yet. They continued walking until the cobbled street opened up to reveal a huge fountain. Sunlight sparkled off the water and glinted on the pennies that lay on the bottom. Amelia ran up to it and placed her hands in the falling streams of water. John came up behind her and placed a penny into her wet hands. He whispered in her ear; "Make a wish..." So she did.

They lay side by side on the soft grass, chatting and laughing. Eventually Amelia turned to look at him; "John, are we going out?" he smiled and leant close to her face, gently placing a kiss on her lips. When he pulled away he asked her and she said yes.

_Amelia Louise Finch is in a relationship with John Watson._

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><p><strong><em>Authors note: Cute and predictable, I know. But it had to be done ^^ meet the real Amelia - piercings and all. She's not your average girl, and I'll talk more about the self harm in future chapters. The next chapter? John and Sherlock get locked in a cupboard and stuck in a rather awkward position. Pre-warning for some SLASH..yay for lemonyness ;) the more reviews I get, the more I'll write! Let me know what you think, and thank you to "The Science Of Sedcution" for my first review! :D <em>**

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	5. Awkward Turtle

Awkward Turtle

John strolled along the corridor back to his room, absent-mindedly texting his girlfriend and reflecting on the day's events with a huge smile on his face. There was no doubt in his mind that Beatrice would find out, and there was also no doubt in his mind that Beatrice would confront Amelia. But she was a strong girl and he would be there to support her and tell Beatrice where to stick her opinions. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the Spares cupboard just ahead of his room was open. He walked over and peered in. The shelves were a mess. The Spares cupboard had sheets, clothes, school books and loads of other crap in it for the boy's floor. Nobody went in it. So why was it open and messed up? He backtracked to his room, and opened the door to see Sherlock Holmes lying on his bed reading another crime novel.

"Oi! Holmes! Sherlock! Come here a sec!" Sherlock looked witheringly at his friend. John was sure he practice this look in the mirror.

"What Watson. I'm busy and can't be bothered with your pettiness. I know you're dating Amelia. I can smell her on you. Your lips are slightly swollen, suggesting you've been kissing someone. Your pupils are dilated which also suggests that you're happy. And as well of smelling of Amelia, you also smell of your best cologne which you only wear on dates. Oh – and you're wearing your lucky boxers."

At this last comment Sherlock flushed a little. It was tiny, but even John who was not the most observant person in the world noticed the tinge of pink. Why? He queried. Sherlock Holmes never blushed. He was used to the insults and the dissecting of his day; he didn't even register the other boy's comments about Amelia and their date. But the blush? Most out of...character.

"Just come here. The Spares cupboard is messed up and I need you to come and have a look. Nobody _ever _goes in the Spares cupboard." Sherlock sighed, deciding it was better to pacify his friend than risk his whining. So the two boys went to look. Sherlock walked in and John followed. He reached for the light switch – but quickly discovered it didn't work brilliant. Sherlock tutted and went to leave. Opening his mouth to moan about how stupid John was. John saw his face and went to leave as well but was met with the door slamming, the lock clicking and loud laughing from the idiots who had shut the door. John gasped; "Fuck." Sherlock hissed in annoyance. John slammed against the door, but it was shut fast and all he achieved was making his already injured shoulder throb. He turned back and found himself pressed to Sherlock as the other boy had obviously taken a step forward. He recognised his smell. The hint of cologne and that of slightly musty clothes. Yet the fragrance of his hair was heady and intoxicating. John wasn't gay. He'd never had any attraction to guys. He was straight. Of course he was. But the closeness of the other man who was slightly taller than him – was enough to spark his curiosity. The fact their hands were touching. Their breath mingling; mint and strangely what tasted like candy. Suddenly John snapped to his senses and jerked away from him. He blessed that it was dark in there. Because that way Sherlock couldn't see his blush or feel his peaking arousal. Sherlock's silken voice broke the tense silence.

"Watson, is there something wrong with being in such close proximity of me?" John swallowed and wet his dry lips.

"No, why would there be? I just don't like small spaces. That's all." John's voice was shaky.

He desperately tried to think of Amelia. Her smile, her kisses, the sway of her hips, the curve of her bre- before he could continue the thought Sherlock's lips were pressed to his in an awkward, exploratory kiss. John stiffened – in both senses. He burned with embarrassment as he became so hard, so fast it hurt. He couldn't believe this was happening. Sherlock had done exactly the same. This was senior school. Girls became bi playing truth or dare. And you could turn a teenage boy gay if you stuffed him in a locked, blacked out cupboard with an equally curious and sexually frustrated freak. His head span as Sherlock's hands explored his muscular chest underneath his un-tucked shirt. And John found – to his surprise - his hands entwined in the other boy's hair as their kiss deepened. John's mouth was forced open as he was pushed up against the door. He couldn't help but moan as Sherlock ground his erection into John's own. Their tongues brushed and began to dance. John stroked his hands down Sherlock's body. Un-tucking his shirt, loosening his belt buckle, un-buttoning his trousers and delving into his boxers. John pulled apart from the kiss, enjoying the sight of the thin string of moisture that joined their lips together break. He stroked Sherlock's shaft. Not knowing what he was doing, or why. He had a sexy, beautiful girlfriend. Yet here he was tossing off his best friend. Sherlock placed one hand on the door above John's head and dug the fingers of his other hand into John's shoulder. His grip on Sherlock tightened and his stroking got faster. Suddenly the pair heard footsteps and shouts of "Alright bum-boys! Sexy time's up!" The pair jumped apart, grabbing their clothes and fumbling to make them look like nothing had happened. And just in the nick of time Sherlock stood in the corner and John stood infront of the door, arms folded, hair ruffled and his face set in an angry scowl. The rugby team flung the door open and laughed at the pair. Sherlock snarled and shoved John and the rest of the lads out of the way. He was followed with cat calls and fake groans and moans – imitating sex. Sherlock fumed as he went back into his room. John now had to face the lads going; "So did freak make a move on you then? We all know he's a gay..." John just laughed along with them and told them all to fuck off as he went into his room. Friends were friends but he had to talk about what just happened. He stepped into his room and slammed the door shut. He walked to the window, shut the curtains and turned to face the steely looking boy.

"What the **FUCK** just happened in there?" Sherlock looked at him.

"What do you _think_ happened John?" John tensed a little – Sherlock never called him John. Ever. John shook his head and went to sit down on his bed. However, Sherlock had other ideas. He grabbed John by his t-shirt and pulled him close to his face. John blinked several times and kissed Sherlock with no qualms. They fell back onto Sherlock's bed and began to explore each other's bodies. Suddenly John stopped. He got off Sherlock and locked the door.

"We can't keep doing this Sherlock." John spoke quietly as he pulled his jeans off, leaving him in his Armani boxers.

"I know." Sherlock's tone was serious, but the smirk on his face said how much he was enjoying this. He climbed back on top of Sherlock, rubbing their erections together, igniting moans from both boys. John's lips and teeth explored Sherlock's neck. As his teeth worried the skin Sherlock bucked underneath him, his moans getting louder. John didn't know how much longer he could continue this. Burning heat was spreading down from his belly button. He moved from Sherlock's neck and then realised why he was so very, very close. The other boy's hand had pulled his boxers down and vigorously stroking his rock hard cock. Her groaned in Sherlock's ear; "Sherlock...Sherlock...I-I'm..." and he exploded over the other boys stomach and as he did John felt a sudden warmth against his leg and realised Sherlock had done the same. John rolled off him and gladly accepted the tissues along with a tender kiss. A few moments later the bell for tea rang and the pair dressed and left for the usual slop on a plate. The memory of their encounter burning hard and fast in their minds. John quickly spotted Amelia – her dark red hair wasn't hard to miss. He snaked two arms around her waist, fought down the waves of sickening guilt and tried to ignore the cheeky looks that Sherlock was giving them. They got their food and sat down at the long tables – the best description John could give was akin to Hogwarts. Amelia sat on his left and Sherlock sat opposite him. The three engaged in tense, yet neutral small talk. John pushed his food around his plate as did Amelia. It looked, smelt and tasted disgusting. Sherlock was browsing a book and eating an apple. Occasionally he'd look at John. Why now was John noticing the way his lips shaped around the rosy skin and his white teeth sunk into the flesh? The quiet but noticeable sucking sound and the way Sherlock's tongue caught the drop of juice at the corner of his mouth. John shivered and desperately fought the blush back. Amelia suddenly sat up and began talking about Social Night. The hall was decked out with the disco ball, lights and some "banging tunes" and apparently it was a big fashion parade. Amelia had snorted at this and said 'she'd find something' It was a chance for the boys and girls to mix on 'social' terms. In Amelia's words the school was "Archaic." (Many people agreed) It was tonight. Then the next question; "John and Sherlock, you two coming?" John soon realised that Sherlock was rubbing his foot up and down John's leg. He tried to reply, but his tongue stuck. He cleared his throat, kissed Amelia on the cheek, whispered a rich 'Yes babe, or course' in her ear, and left with a cheeky wink. Finally she was face to face with Sherlock.

"So Sherlock, are you going – or is it not your scene?" He was silent – he managed a nod. The silence was thick. So Amelia put down her cutlery, picked up her hands, placed one flat on top of the other and rotated her thumbs in circles - the well known social ice breaker. Sherlock looked at her hands and raised an eyebrow.

"Sherlock...this situation calls for Awkward Turtle – oh, and come to the party, you might surprise yourself."

And with that she left to try and find something else to wear. Other than her nine pairs of skinny jeans in varying colours. In her mind Awkward Turtle solved **all **problems.

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><p><strong>Authors note: I'm on a role people! Two chapters in one day. It all blows up in the next chapter! Serious stand off. But between who? There should be another chapter up tomorrow! Keep reading 3 I love you all! 3<strong>


	6. Slow Dance

**WARNING: This chapter continas Slash, suggested Femslash and Self Harm - don't like - don't read. Simple as that :) But apart from that, enjoy! :D **

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><p>Slow Dance...<p>

Social Night was a strange experience for Amelia. Although she was with John, she felt awkward and out of place. There was no denying she looked as beautiful as the rest of the girls, John had told her, and the darkness in Sherlock's eyes screamed that he agreed. Her dress was black and fitted her to every curve, black tights and red stilettos. Even with the five inch gain both John and Sherlock were still taller than her. But something didn't feel right. Maybe it was the vicious looks she was getting from Beatrice and her cronies as she sat next to John, head swaying in time with the music. Maybe it was because the boy sat next to her was the object of her deepest sexual fantasies. She liked John because he was gorgeous, yet kind and considerate. He wasn't a total prick, not yet anyway. But Sherlock? She couldn't get that dream out of her head. His 'touch' burned on her skin whenever she was near him. She remembered vividly the time he'd accidently brushed past her in the corridor when it was packed with hundreds of obnoxious excuses for human existence all in the maroon uniform. The back of his pale hand had brushed hers and the scent of his cologne made her weak at the knees. She'd collapsed against the lockers and sunk a few inches. The bell had rung and corridor cleared and she'd made her way to her lesson. Trembling. And now here he was again, mere inches from her. Yet when she looked at John her heart burned with affection _but_...when she looked at Sherlock, she ached with physical need, and prayed that he didn't notice. And luckily for her, he didn't. His thoughts were on the man on her other side. The tall, strapping, muscular, tanned boy; who he had made out with in the cupboard. Sherlock could still feel the heat of John's release on his stomach. Sherlock Holmes was not one to blush, but in the darkness of the room, he allowed himself the luxury. Eventually the music was mixed to a slow track. The DJ spoke over the music as Bruno Mars turned all the girls to mush with "_Just The Way You Are_"

"Now all you guys, grab a girl and enjoy a dance...you never know – you might walk away with a bit more than a phone number..." all the younger girls snickered and received disapproving looks from the teachers. But nevertheless, the dance floor was quickly filled with couples. Amelia watched John walk away to find a hopeful girl – they'd decided to put things on hold whilst the pot stopped boiling. So Amelia was left next to Sherlock. She didn't expect to dance with him, she didn't want to even though in her heart she was lying. But suddenly, Sherlock stood up, held out his hand and took her to the dance floor. The next song came on "_Can You Feel The Love Tonight_" Amelia nearly vomited. But then she looked at whose arm was wrapped round her waist and whose body was pressed to hers. She melted. His eyes were crystal. His hair was so soft as she gently wound her fingers through it. Sherlock was shocked. Why was he doing this? He didn't like her...did he? After what happened when he'd interrupted her dance lesson, he couldn't think of her in the same way. Her body was perfect; her breasts were...Sherlock stopped his train of thought immediately. He didn't realise that the dance floor had cleared to make room for them. They weren't dancing, they were swaying. But they could both feel it, the pull to kiss. All Amelia could think of was that dream she'd had in the dance studio...it had been so, so vivid. His body, his – she blushed as her mind finished the sentence and provided the image. Suddenly his lips met hers. Sparks flew from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. As the song faded the DJ changed tracks – Jessie J with '_Do It_ _Like A Dude_' Amelia's eyes were closed as the kiss continued. Then she realised...the dream she'd had in the dance studio – can't have been a dream. It was all real, so, so real! It must have happend. Her heart did somersaults but her hopes were shattered as Sherlock was wrenched away from her, leaving her kissing thin air for a fraction of a second. John had pulled Sherlock away from her. I could hear their shouting about the music. The first time she'd heard a fight this loud.

"What the fuck are you doing Holmes?"

"What does it look like Watson?" Sherlock's words were acid and Amelia watched in shock as John was melted by the viciousness.

"She's my...my..." he couldn't finish it as Beatrice was right by his arm, fighting his corner and batting her pretty eyelashes.

"She's your what John? She was never anything other than a friend and a cheap ride- to you at any rate." Amelia flared with rage at what she was hearing. She stepped forward and grabbed the front of Sherlock's shirt and brought her flattened right palm across his face. The smack echoed across the hall. Stopping the music and the dancers in their tracks. Students gathered round and we even mangaed to drag the face suckers out of the dark corners. The punters loved a fight;

"I am many things Sherlock Holmes – but the one thing I am not is a possession. Nobody owns me and nobody uses me. And if you think I'm a cheap whore – why did you kiss me?" She turned to John in disgust; "And you John Watson? What do you have to say? Nothing. Because you're too busy hiding behind your utter bitch of an ex-girlfriend. You can't even say to your supposed best friend that four hours ago we were holding hands, and if my memory serves me right – you asked me out. So that makes us a couple right? Or am I, as Sherlock says, a 'cheap ride'?" Before John, Sherlock or Beatrice could say anything Amelia was gone. Her heels clicking on the wooden floor and the sound echoing and fading along with a smattering of applaus as she made her way to the girl's dorms. The Social Night was wrapped up and the boys and girls sent to their respectable rooms. The night ended on a poor note and it was no surprise. John and Sherlock went back to their room in silence. They lay on their beds in the dark until finally John spoke up;

"Listen, Sherlock I'm sorry." Silence. John tried again, but as he took a breath in he was silenced by a pair of soft lips on his. That familiar heady smell of his shampoo, the darkness of his cologne. John instantly relaxed and their arms and legs entwined. After a few moments of frenzied kissing Sherlock murmured in John's ear; "I'm sorry too John. It was never my place. Forgive me?" The boy's voice was rich yet saddened and John kissed him gently; "Of course I do...now...where were we?" John felt Sherlock's erection pulse against his own at the words. Soon Sherlock was under the covers of John's bed and slowly peeling off John's boxers. John groaned and flexed his back as he felt heat, moisture and pressure surround his throbbing member. It only took a few moments and he treasured the climax and his toes curled. And moments later Sherlock appeared above him, licking his lips and smiling wickedly. John, who was stronger, took the opportunity to flip Sherlock over and pin him to the bed. This time he was the one to slink beneath the covers and Sherlock was the one moaning.

Amelia however, was not having such an interesting night. She'd been dumped by the guy who a few moments earlier she'd praised for 'not being a prick' and she'd been kissed and dumped by his best friend. Sherlock's lips lingered on hers. The feeling burnt. She was moist between her legs, and ached to touch herself, satisfy her need. But she pushed it to the back of her mind. Right now she had more serious things to worry about. In the form of black haired Beatrice who was now storming up the stairs screaming profanities and calling her every name under the sun. She walked in and strutted over to her, grabbed her hair and pushed her head flat to her bed. Amelia was sat cross legged and she felt the muscles in her back scream as they were pushed beyond their ballet limits. She whimpered in pain which only earned her a kick on the ribs from Louisa, one of Beatrice's followers.

"That freak Sherlock was right Amelia. You are a dirty little whore. John was never yours and he will never be yours. He is mine and always will be. You keep your disgusting slutty hands off him. Or Louisa and I will make your life living hell. Do you understand me?" Amelia nodded and was kicked again. "Yes Beatrice, I am a dirty little whore and I will keep my disgusting slutty hands off of John Watson." Her voice was mocking as if she respected her to repeat this. But Amelia decided she'd rather lower her morals than lower her life expectancy. So she repeated it; "Yes Beatrice, I am a dirty little whore and I will keep my disgusting slutty hands off of John Watson." And she pulled her head back up, slapped her and pushed her back so she was laying flat. Then her, Louise, Janice and Pauline left. Amelia knew where they were going. To the roof to have a smoke. How she craved the nicotine kick. But instead she grabbed her towel and her razor and made her way to the bathroom. They had an hour till lights out and the house mentors were in a meeting – discussing tonight's events. Amelia cursed as she realised it would be order marks all round for her in the morning. She stepped into one the cubicles and stripped. She turned the shower on and stepped under the freezing cold stream of water. All feelings of arousal vanished and were replaced with biting cold and pain. It was no worse than what she was used to, but there was definite crack in one of her ribs. Breathing was never _this _hard. Soon the water began to heat up and the blistering head provided her with the opportunity to relax. Hot skin was the best, pliable and the nerves were at their most sensitive. She picked up her razor and threw it forcefully at the tiled floor. It shattered and the blades fell out. Suddenly a quiet voice spoke up; "Y'know – cutting yourself never works. Trust me, I've tried." Amelia froze and quickly picked up the pieces of shattered plastic and razor blades. They were dangerously sharp and she couldn't help it. Amelia ignored the voice. And drew it straight across her upper thigh. The skin split and blood spilled out, coating her leg in seconds. Then the water washed it away, turning the white drain pink for a moment. She did this three times more. And waited till the worst of the bleeding had stopped. She turned the shower off and wrapped herself in her towel. She stepped out of the cubicle to be met a new face. The girl was small and slender with dark purple hair. Her features were slim, her eyes were dark brown. She was...beautiful. The shorter girl stepped forward and took Amelia's hand holding the towel. As she pulled it away Amelia's towel dropped and the girl sat back down on the benches opposite the showers facing her. Amelia gasped and covered her body with her hands. She flushed and tried to bend for her towel. But the strange girl stopped her. Her smile was warm and her eyes trusting and Amelia relaxed a little and straightened up again, still covering her breasts. However, the girl reached into her bag and pulled out a bandage and a bottle of antiseptic.

"My name is Rowena. And your name is Amelia. I don't want to sound like I'm stalking you, but you look so sad all the time. I've got a spare bed in my room, would you like to change rooms? Those bruises are from Beatrice and Louisa – I know because I used to get them. You see I'm open about my sexuality and they thought that I'd try and jump them in the middle of the night. So they'd tie me to my bed and beat me up during the weekends. It never bothered me, because like you – I had my cutting to retreat to..." She continued to tell her story as she dressed Amelia's leg. By the end tears were falling in great rivulets from Amelia's eyes. This girl was like her, her scars were thick and white. Deep like hers. Then the girl stood up and looked up at Amelia. The girl stood on her tiptoes and kissed Amelia deeply on the lips. Then she left. Her last words were "I'm in room 13 – lucky for some" and she gave Amelia a cheeky wink. Amelia ran back to her room, her heart racing. She grabbed her stuff, shoving it in her suitcase. The bitches weren't back from their fag yet and Amelia thanked the Gods. Within minutes she was outside room number 13 and her stuff was thrown inside and she was pulled in and the girl – Rowena kissed Amelia again. And Amelia had to admit – she melted. Maybe that slow dance with Sherlock wasn't a bad thing. As her beloved Grandmother said to her before she died _"As one door closes, another door opens."_

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><p><strong>Authors Note: So...what happens next? Maybe they all go gay and live happily ever after? Nah - that'd be WAY to boring ;) Keep R&amp;R guys - you know you want to! :P Thank you to my best friend Rowena for giving me the inspiration for Amelia's new room mate ^^<strong>


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